


arrow through the heart, tear me apart

by pastelwolfie



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Antarctic Empire Faction on SMPEarth (Video Blogging RPF), Death, How Do I Tag, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Runaway Prince, We die like Mexican Dream, but they’re there so little i don’t think they deserve character tags lmao, ft. charlie/niki/quackity/puffy/eret/fundy/foolish/karl, im a simp for dreambur what can i say?, the dreambur is kinda implied, weird style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29984703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwolfie/pseuds/pastelwolfie
Summary: snowchester is a large, peaceful town.for the most part.the outskirts are dangerous, to an outsider. but this outsider, in mustard yellow sweaters and a hand-carved guitar? maybe it was more of a home than a danger.ORthe runaway prince wilbur fic no one but myself needed, but you’re getting anyway bc i love the dynamic of prince wilbur joining dream and his ‘baddies’ and absolutely WRECKING his royal fam lmao
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	arrow through the heart, tear me apart

**Author's Note:**

> did you need this? no.  
> do you get it? yes.
> 
> dreambur, as always, don’t expect anything more i am a s i m p for dreambur sksks

snowchester was a large, bustling town. it was home to at least a few thousand, blanketed in sheets of calm and fresh snow through the winter months and glistened with morning dew through warm sun rays throughout the summer. it was a paradise, through not all havens are without their sins. snowchester is home to many thieves and gangs that live along its outskirts, but even these communities have a sense of home to them. they knew how it was to get along in life, so they went along quite unbothered.

one of these homes was a dark spruce cottage, 2 floors with an attic, and home to some of the most graceful and dangerous people you could ever meet. for one, there were the kids; entertaining children, youthful and ever hopeful but not naieve. they knew the ins and out of the truth, their childhood innocence had been smothered, though the flickering smoulders of what remained never truly went out.

tubbo was sporadic, loud and more childish than you’d imagine. he wore placating greens and ripped jeans all year ‘round, but was quite possibly the most irritating force to ever be reckoned with. his youth brought unyielding stubbornness, and with the guidance of the adult figures in his life? a force not to be underestimated.

ranboo was definitely more shielded, definitely the ‘baby’ of the wild people he lived with. a mediator with knowledge that should definitely surpass his years, a level-headed voice of reason keeping them from ripping eachother apart limb from limb when the arguments got heated enough. it was surprising, though, since he also held the memory of a goldfish, hence why he was hardly ever sent out on runs.

asides from the kids, the cottage was home to a pair of explosive brothers, heated and chilled in combat respectively. george was more of a sweet-talker, a staler to let his brethren get in place. his voice was loud and demanded attention, and he could most certainly hold his own.

stamina only matched by his brother, sapnap took ‘bring the heat’ to a whole literal sense. his hot-headed and short fuse were a deadly match with his mild fire-bending abilities, but it was enough. skill unmatched for miles around, he could and would smite anyone he needed to get his way, or protect his brother.

then there was schlatt, their real talker. he planned, perfectly and with deadly precision almost every singe time. anything anyone did was done with his prior knowledge, and he was the tipping factor that made each set-up, each mugging, each robbery such an intractable success.

of course, however, there was their figurehead. their icon, the face of the group that could bring local guard forces to their knees, donned in porcelain mask and green hoodies. dream was not quite what his name made him out to be. he was a nightmare. venomous, strong, agile, resilient, stubborn, everything a good fighter should be and more. he was by no means the best, but his knowledge and intel is really what made him such a force. no one knew his face, and few recognised his voice.

despite being hell, they were a family. not everyone is hard and cold to the core, no. they still held love and generosity in their cores, despite the ashes of sin that they left in their destructive wake.

tubbo was envious, ranboo was forgetful, george was slothful, sapnap was wrathful, schlatt was gluttonous and dream was by all definitions of the word prideful. they were human, though, and humans were flawed.

that’s why, when a new kid rocked up to the outskirts of town, they took an interest with toying with him. he hadn’t a name to be associated with, nor a possession to his name, yet he managed to purchase a nearby cottage without breaking a sweat and seamlessly bled into their life, like he was a shadow. wilbur, in the end, was anything but a shadow. he was the light, streaming in through the kitchen windows and flooding the world with warmth. he moved in only a matter of months later, indoctrinated willingly into their pseudo-family.

that’s not to say he came clean without his emotional baggage, of course not. he had familial history that haunted him to the day, through guilt, relief and joy that rolled around like ocean waves in his mind. he had to tell his little family, of course he did, and they willingly accepted him. he had, after all, turned his back on his family; and he’d managed to get away untraced and alone, which only proved he was worth his salt. that, and they had all grown so familial with him that it would feel like casting out an older brother they’d always had.

he was his warm, kind self with tubbo and ranboo, ever understanding and even teaching the two his musical skill. he was flamboyant and spunky with george and sapnap, effectively cooling their attitudes from explosion or willingly adding fuel to their fire, never inbetween. he’d let himself unhinge and be as brutally honest and reckless with his words around schlatt, sparking more joy and amusement in the older than most of them had seen in a while. he was, though, by all means closely with dream.

they were like bread and butter, the perfect pair, but no one knew quite how it worked and that- that was okay. they didn’t need to know the ins-and-outs as to why people clicked together like those two did, it just happened. so it was a blissful 6 months of ebbing cold into warmth, before the sun once more became shy and the snow began to blanked the earth in some vague attempt to keep it warm. the family went without major issues, until one day.

one day.

it was cold, the air was crisp and breathing the fresh breeze stung your lungs if you weren’t careful. wind of the royal family passing through their town washed through the people like a virus, reaching them in no time.

they were talking to their neighbour, niki, who had heard of it from various of her customers. she owned one of snowchester’s many bakeries, but was by far the best one. she and their pseudo-family were on good terms, though, so there was never any bad blood between them. she was like an extension to their family- an aunt, if you would, which in turn made her brother, eret, like an uncle. they’d help out time-to-time, be it providing pastries on a down day, charging them less for their goods, passing on intel or packages, or helping them out of a tight spot (eret had a friend, fundy, who was good at that thing if he was in the mood for it) if they ever needed it.

it was set in stone when george saw the carriage arrive in the town square, a king, two princes and a small army coming for a ‘routine search’ for their lost boy. it was their first bad day.

it took them 3 days to reach their cottage, but when they did, none other than the heir to the throne himself, technoblade, showed at their front door, asking (or just informing them of his intrusion) to enter their home. dream only smiled, maskless in his unprepared nature, letting the to-be-king into his home.

technoblade was a stoic man, so not a single person in the house could tell one of his emotions from the next. all they knew, was that despite having wilbur successfully hidden in the attic, which the royal didn’t know they had, the prince had spoken something or other into his communicator and the king, remaining price and no less than 20 guards were now in their front yard, demanding each member of the house to come outside.

so they did.

schlatt and dream hovered protectively near tubbo, george and sapnap mirroring the action with ranboo. wilbur could only watch from the window of the second floor as the scene unfolded, having managed to sneak down unseen when the royal was out of their house. the sight of what had ticked off his whereabouts being in the house was thrown haphazardly into the snow, making him cringe.

his guitar.

hand-crafted by none other than himself, aided in creation by his father.

iconically his, one-of-a-kind.

the neighbourhood was out now, watching from their windows. niki, eret and fundy from the street, karl and quackity from their glassed-in back porch, charlie and and puffy from their kitchen window. techno had his sword unsheathed, taking each in turn to demand an answer for his brother’s whereabouts, the king stood, scowling with wings puffed out in a menacing act, not too far behind, sides by a fuming prince tommy with daggers at the ready, slipping through his fingertips with a time-trialed experience.

they were cornered by an ominous half-circe of guards, decked out in iconic arctic empire attire for their royal guard, trapping them against the house. they were trapped.

finished.

and that, now that- that was something wilbur could not sit idly by and witness. it was either the end of all of them, or no end at all.

the psuedo-family he’d made himself familiar with was by every means better than his real one, so he would, sure as all hell, fight for them. always and forever.

he grabbed his crossbow, smooth and familiar under his fingers, seamlessly strutting from his place by the window and out his bedroom. snatching one final token from his desktop, he opened the small window in the downstairs bathroom and made his way around the back of the house, to the front where his families were cornered.

he could, at last hear their voices.

“you can’t talk your way out of this one, you filth! what have you done with wilbur soot? spit it out! you’ll hang for this, no matter if we find him dead or alive.”

“hang? really? we’re hanging because your son decided he didn’t want to put up with your bullshit? prime, i can see why-“

“don’t talk to my son like that you bastard.”

the words sent shards of ice shooting down his spine, regret and pride mixing in his gut. his actions- his flighty descend from the palace- had sparked this rage in them, and _good_. let them wallow in their anger, but they had _no_ right, no right _whatsoever_ to talk like that to the people he loved.

“i’m going to say this once! back off,”

clipped, cool and loud. he could almost hear the royal family stiffen, unsure if the voice belonged to their son or not. his accent had changed quite a bit, considering he’d been living with unfamiliarly voices persons for over half a year at this point.

“who was that? show yourself!”

explosive and fuelled only by anger, of course. tommy never knew how to keep his mouth shut. with frightening grace, he launched himself from the tree, landing squarely on his younger brother’s back, flattening him with the force of his leap. he knocked his father over with a shoulder, watching as dream, george and sapnap sprung to life, the brothers revealing hidden blades to try and hold off the guards, dream headed straight for techno. the fast movement came to a halt, though, after a sharp cry from tubbo- “dream!”

wilbur turned from toppling over a guard to where dream was duelling techno. or, well, had tried to. dream lay, panting, a sword at his throat as his back got pressed against the snow-capped grass.

“techno i will ask you this once,”

 _click_.

“back. off.”

the pink-haired prince whipped his head around in record speed, eyes blown wide with shock at the unfamiliar, guttural hate dripping from the voice of his oh-so-meek-and-kind brother. the soft-edged, generous and forgiving man was gone- all traces of remorse and love once held for his family dissipated, pupils blazing with hazel flames that danced beneath the sheen of his eyes.

“wilbur, we’re bringing you home, what-“

“no, technoblade! you aren’t!”

the malice and hatred in his voice was cold and it hurt, his brother flinched ever so slightly at the volume and phil and tommy could only stare up at their once-family in shock.

“you search the nation for me, you- you stampede through town after town looking for me, when i’ve made it clear that i want no part of you? i ran away, was that not clear enough?”

he was quieter now, though his tone was obviously simmering with months of boiled-over emotions that he hadn’t yet allowed himself to vent, dangerously quiet.

“wilbur, we-“

“then when you do find me, find traces of me, you- you have the audacity, the fucking gall to- to line up my family to- to slaughter?”

tone now shocked and appalled, he sneered at the desperate look crossing his older twin’s face, the only one of his pseudo-family that could read it.

“oh, yes technoblade, this- these people? they’re my _family_. not by blood, no, but still: they’re better than any of you lousy lot ever were- and it’s only been a few months! you- you had 17 years to be my family, and guess what? you _failed_!”

laughing in an almost manic matter, wilbur made a wild gesture with one of his hands, removing it from his crossbow. a stupid mistake when facing someone as threatening as technoblade, but the toll his words had taken on the other was more than any blade could deal, throwing him off entirely.

“wil, put the crossbow down, we only want to take you home-“

“you don’t get it, _philza_.”

the once-prince in the yellow sweater and ripped black jeans snapped, venom oozing from his words like a fresh wound.

“i _am_ home. and you- well, you just threatened my home. clearly you never knew me well enough to call me your son but, here:”

taking a step forward towards his twin, he pulled up his crossbow, ignoring the looks he got from his new, real family. looking back to his former father, the once-prince smiled, a distorted look of joy pulling at his facial features,

“i snap.”

_click_.

and, just like that, as the chaos erupted, not one guard was left standing, sent scrambling back to whatever inn they came from. the once-prince stood, his family backing him in a menacing formation to the now cowering figures of the royal family, tears streaking pained faces.

“don’t touch my family, okay, _your highness_?”

brown hair his his face partially, but the threat was there, ringing around their heads as he leant in to whisper to the king, a deadly calm edging his words.

“i’d hate for you and your precious empire to loose that final heir, hm?”

and, just like that, the worst day was over, as the problems picked up the wrecked corpse of their fallen to walk away, never to return. it would be humorous, you see, and in a twisted way it was- the bitter taste of irony; a son, fallen, whilst trying to chase and bring back a son who had appeared to flown too close to the sun and gotten burnt, only for their wings to get singed by the fire that arose from the ashes of the to-be-prince. he didn’t know much of the future, now uncertain - (would they have to move or not? they all quite liked what they had at snowchester,) all they knew, however, was that they were, undeniably, family.

the former once-prince only proving that, leaving only a mess of sludgy, red-stained snow where his brother had once stood. no one threatened his love and got away with it, the royals had learnt. it was an eye-for-an-eye, apparently.

king philza, prince techno and prince tommy learnt that when their once-brother had turned at the speed of light, angled his crossbow just right, and let loose his singular arrow, which found its way and struck the youngest right over the heart, leaving no time for the young and irrational prince to so much as whisper a final ‘ _i love you_ ’ or ‘ _i’m sorry_ ’ to a weeping father and a brother frozen in shock, sword dropped.

the reddened snow where the body of the young prince had fallen was sludgy and half-melted, soon to wash away with a new thaw or disappear as a fresh sheet of snow blanketed their little corner of the world.

it wasn’t much, nothing in comparison to the palaces and castes he’d been so stupidly accustomed to in his youth, but this slightly worn-down cottage, made of dark spruce wood with two floors and an attic, in a not-so-nice part of town upon first glance, was his home. and the once-prince would do anything for his home, for the people he loved.

for family.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA NOT ME   
> not me killing tommy pFffFffFf  
> i can’t stand watching his streams honestly idk why this is just me partially projecting that lmao


End file.
